From Beneath the Trees
by Kienova
Summary: The ride to the sanatorium started as something out of friendship, affection, illness, and fear. But it ended in something more, something neither Sister Bernadette nor Doctor Turner could have forseen occurring on a lonely road outside of Poplar.
"The treatment is very effective I've heard. Best results yet, especially as we've caught it before the disease has become active," Dr. Turner said, fingers drumming on the steering wheel as they left Poplar, heading out of the city. They'd been driving for nearly ten minutes by that point; the car having been plunged into silence the second Sister Julienne had bid them good luck, offering a small wave as they drove off.

"Yes," Sister Bernadette replied, not really taking in anything that the doctor had been saying. She was still struggling with the last few days. She had felt fine, no symptoms of the tuberculosis that was running rampant in her lungs having made themselves known to her, nor to anyone else at Nonnatus House. She wished that she could go back to the ignorance of a few days ago. Before a x-ray showed the state of her lungs; before she had to endure test after test at a hospital; before she had had to feel Dr. Turner's gentle but callused hands sliding the diaphragm of the stethoscope over her shoulder blades and then her upper chest, careful to not let his fingers stray from the cool metal.

"The combination of streptomycin, para-aminosalicylic acid, and isoniazid has worked wonders. Combine that with rest and most patients at your stage make a full recovery," he rambled on, paying no real heed to the fact that she wasn't listening to anything he said, instead she was watching the city move by, slowly the buildings moving further and further apart from one another.

"Mmhmm," she added, hoping that by making him think she was paying attention he wouldn't push for any personal conversation. Since that day at the Fete she'd struggled with thoughts of him. Kissing her hand had been bold, not to mention outlandish. A well respected doctor, placing his lips on the cut palm of a nun – and in the kitchen of the parish hall at that! She had never thought such bizarre actions would take place – let alone with her being an active participant in the events. As much as she wanted to believe that the act had been one sided, she couldn't lie to herself, let alone to God. She had so desperately wanted to accept the sign of affection but had turned her back instead, heart racing, as she forced herself to think of her vows and maintain propriety.

It would have been easier if she hadn't already been doubting her vocation. For months she had felt herself becoming more and more drawn away from her religious calling, questioning her motivations and what God wanted from her. Yes, most people came to struggle with their faith at one point or another, but it wasn't her faith that she did not understand, but rather her humanity. It would have been easier, in a way, if her feelings had surfaced suddenly. If there had been a loud bang announcing their arrival with pomp and circumstance they would have been brushed off as a crush, something juvenile and passing, but rather they had snuck up on her, slipping into the back of her mind over time until they were all encompassing.

It was a million things and none all at once. From the look of complete anger that had passed over his face when Meg Carter slapped her, to the way he cared for his son, to how he had glanced at her over any of a hundred labouring women over the last year. All of it had built until she couldn't deny that her feelings for the widowed doctor were anything but platonic and, despite her vow of chastity which she had held steadfast to for so long, she couldn't help but wonder what it would feel like to kiss him.

"I was reading in the Lancet the other day," he was saying, glancing occasionally into the side mirror as he turned, oblivious to her turmoil. Sister Bernadette closed her eyes, letting his voice wash over her as the car rumbled softly along the road. She could picture his stricken look when he had given her the diagnosis, the look of complete worry and loss when he received the test results from the London, and the utter determination in his voice when he offered to drive her to the sanatorium, ignoring Sister Julienne's idea of a taxi or asking if any of the nurses had access to a car. Part of her wished that he hadn't offered; that instead she was sitting in the car with Sister Julienne, a woman who she viewed as a surrogate mother in so many ways, instead of the man who had been setting her thoughts aflutter for the last few weeks. But he thoughts would not change what was happening, so she allowed herself to settle into the reality she was now facing – one of uncertainty, sickness, treatment, confusion and longing.

Sighing, she let the soft baritone of his voice lull her into a calmed state, closing her eyes to the sound of it as they drove. She had no idea what he was saying, just that hearing him speak soothed her, allowing her mind to drift from the turmoil it had been in the last while.

Before she knew it she felt the car slowing to a halt, her eyes opening to see that they had pulled over to the side of the road, fog thick around them but interspersed with the occasional beam of sunlight that was valiantly trying to burn away the mist that was settled in the air, trees rustling above them.

"Doctor Turner, is everything all right?" she asked, tilting her body so that she could look at him. His fingers were tightly clenched on the wheel, a look of determination and confusion on his face as he stared straight out in front of him.

"Sister Bernadette... I know my actions as of late have not been as they should. That I have overstepped boundaries both physically and emotionally, and for that I beg your forgiveness. I do not deserve it, but I ask for it anyway. But I do not know if you will be able to grant me this, for as much as I would like to pretend I had not done what I did, I cannot. And although I know the statistics and treatment outcomes and the positive impact medicine is making in the world I cannot help but be terrified that I am going to lose you," Dr. Turner rushed, running his hand over his face before turning to face her, switching off the ignition as he did so.

"Doctor Turner-" she began, only to halt when he raised his hand.

"Please, let me finish," he begged, eyes fixed on her as she nodded slightly, feeling her chest tighten in anxiety as he took a deep breath before he continued. "If you wish to condemn me for my actions after this, I will understand. If you wish never to see me or speak to me again, I will understand and I will heed your wishes. But I cannot contend with the thought that I could leave you here today and never know what it feels like to do this." With that he cupped her cheek, leaning forward across the car and placing his lips on hers without anymore preamble. Sister Bernadette felt her breath catch in her throat at the feeling of his mouth connecting to hers, his fingers gentle against her cheek as if terrified that she would shatter at the merest movement. The kiss was chaste, full of fear and longing, but so simple at the same time. By the time she managed to get her head around what was happening he was pulling back, a slight flush on his cheeks and eyes downcast towards the leather seat. "I'm sorry," he whispered. He couldn't look at her, his heart pounding in his chest and yet, at the same time, shattering into a million pieces. He had hoped, in the back of his mind, that she would return the kiss and his affection. Instead she had sat completely still as he kissed her.

"Don't," she said, clearing her throat a second after the word was released into the silent air of the car. "Don't apologise." Patrick clenched his eyes shut, waiting for her to demand he deliver her to the sanatorium, to tell him that his silence was preferable to his begging for forgiveness. "Kiss me again," she said instead, voice so quiet that he almost missed the request. His eyes snapped open, focusing on her face instantly, searching for anything to tell him that she wasn't serious with her request. "Please," she requested, voice still timid.

He didn't wait for her to question her own thinking, or to ask again. He leaned forward, joining their lips without hesitation, one hand on her neck while the other maintained his balance by pressing into the leather of the car. This time she responded, moving her lips softly against his, eyes slipping shut as she abandoned herself to the feeling. As the seconds passed he became more bold, nipping her bottom lip softly, encouraging her to open to him. She responded early, allowing him entrance after a few beats of her heart, letting his tongue into her mouth to dance with hers. Patrick could sense her hesitation and insecurity in the way she moved against him, unsure if she was doing things right, more than likely horrified by her own actions, but she didn't slow or stop, her own tiny hand lifting up from where it had been in her lap to tangle in his hair. When they finally broke apart for air he rested his forehead against hers, keeping his eyes shut so that he could savour their closeness for even just another second before reality would again come crashing in on them. A reality where he was a widow with a child at home, and she was a nun on her way for treatment against a debilitating illness.

"I'm so scared," she murmured, the hand that had been in his hair sliding down to his shoulder, keeping her anchored to him.

"You will be all right," he assured her instantly, thumb stroking her jaw.

"I know the statistics as well as you doctor," she admonished, her firmness only beguiled by the shaky quality of her voice that showed she was not questioning his medical judgement but rather filled with worry. "But I am so afraid that if something were to happen to me, that I will not respond to the treatments as is hoped, that I would never know... never know what it feels like to be with you. To feel the love of a man and woman together." The last part of her statement was said so quietly that Patrick almost felt that he was hallucinating, but through opening his eyes and looking at her he knew that he had heard her correctly.

"Sister... please, do not say such a thing unless you mean it," he said, voice thick with desire.

"I know I shouldn't, but I do, I do mean it. I don't know if I could live through this without the memory of what it feels like to be with you." It was said with such conviction that he threw restraint to the wind, reaching over and pulling the petite woman into his lap, attacking her lips with ardent kisses. The sound she released into his mouth made him dizzy, her tiny hands clinging to him as he kissed her. She released him a second later, pushing him back slightly. Patrick inwardly winced. Had he misread her? Pushed too far? Too fast?

Instead of scolding him or asking him to slow down she took her shaking hands and removed her wimple, the cap covering her hair quickly following, both garments being thrown into the backseat. The blonde hair that escaped caught the dim sunlight that filtered through the fog, casting her in an ethereal glow.

"You're beautiful," he breathed, unable to control the thought that needed to escape. She blushed, ducking her head slightly as she removed the cross from around her neck, adding it to the heap of material on the back seat before she reattached her lips to his. Her actions were based on that of pure instinct, no knowledge of previous action giving her guidance as to what to do. As they kissed she could feel heat rising in her, settling low in her belly.

"Oh," she gasped, feeling his kisses trail from her lips down to her jaw and then behind her ear, his teeth nipping the flesh there and sending a pool of warmth to between her legs. She had never felt anything like it, the desire to be this close to someone, to be even closer than they were now. With his strong hands carding up and down her back and sides, his teeth and lips against her flesh, her head tipped back from the sensation and hips rocking without her consent. She couldn't help it – she had never wanted anything more than she did the man beneath her in that moment.

Gently he eased her backwards, pushing her off his lap and towards the opposite side of the car, pressing her against the cool metal and leather that covered the door. He moved over her, kissing her lips again, letting her feel his weight against her.

His cock was stiff within the confines of his trousers, his need for her overwhelming the control he normally had over himself. He parted her legs tenderly, settling in the cradle of her thighs, their clothes separating them as he continued to kiss her, marvelling in the ability of being able to touch her hair, to see more of the woman she was beneath the heavy blue fabric.

"Are you sure?" he whispered, pulling back to look in her eyes.

"I've never been more certain," she replied, arching her back until she could catch his lips again, one hand going to his wrist and leading his hand down her thigh, encouraging him to push the fabric of her skirts up to her waist. He wasted no time, diving in and tugging the material up to her hips before sliding his hands to his own clothes, undoing his belt and trousers in record time, shoving them down far enough to remove his cock from their confines before settling again between her legs, brushing against her, causing her to instinctively push her hips up against him, wanting it. He grinned down at her.

"Not yet," he said softly, kissing down her neck and over her collar bone, parts of her he had only seen once before, during her examination. His fingers found her nipples then, even through the fabric of her clothes, and he quickly and he began to cup and squeeze her breast, being rough and gentle at the same time, taking in all her reactions at his different movements. From the noises escaping her he figured she liked him to be a little rough, her hips jumping against him when he squeezed more tightly.

He felt her shift slightly and as he moved to the other breast he was surprised to see that she had snuck her hand down between them, fingers shaking as she reached out to gingerly touch his manhood. He groaned loudly, hips jerking into her grasp.

"Is… is this okay?" she inquired, voice breathless and rough.

"More than," he replied, kissing her roughly. "But I want to feel you," he added, shifting his fingers down from her chest to between her legs, batting her hand away before he slid her knickers to the side, slowly sliding a finger inside her, immediately moaning at how tight she was.

Knowing that she was inexperienced and more than likely worried he slowly slid in a second finger, causing her to buck against his hand, and desperately trying to find something to grab onto, her left hand slamming onto the edge of the dashboard while the other clung to the edge of the seat. Stroking her slowly with his fingers, in and out of her, he started to slowly rub her swollen clit, wondering if she had ever done this to herself – if she knew the pleasure that she could be given were she to succumb to desires of the flesh. When she finally opened her eyes again he leaned back slightly, smiling at her as he withdrew his fingers. He kissed her lips, and it was then that her eyes fluttered open, and she looked at him in surprise, and maybe a little embarrassment.

"I want to make love to you," he whispered to her, voice deeper than she ever thought imaginable. Immediately she shifted, lifting her leg up and hooking it over his hip so that he could position his aching cock at her entrance, following all she knew about copulation from working in Poplar and the things she overheard and saw through her tenure there to guide her actions. She smiled at him, pressing her hips forward and brushing her dampness against his hard shaft, teasing him inadvertently.

"Then make love to me," she breathed, biting her bottom lip as the words slipped out.

"I'll go slow. If you need me to stop, tell me," he replied, kissing her swiftly. Without any more preamble his hands were on her hips, leading her into the first steps of the primal dance of copulation. He slid himself through her warmth a few times before she finally felt the head of his member press against her opening, her body accepting him slowly as her eyes widened at the tightness of it. Patrick couldn't help it, groaning loudly as he felt her body clamp around the thick head, her walls fluttering as they attempted to adjust to his girth as he slowly buried himself inside her. He kept his eyes on her face the entire time, watching for any signs of discomfort or pain. Instead of pain he just saw wonder on her face, eyes focused on where she could see their bodies joining between them. Once settled completely inside her she let her eyes connect with his, smiling shyly at him as he lowered himself until their bodies were pressed tightly together. "Are you all right?" he asked, noting the flush in her cheeks as she nodded, hips twitching slightly in the desire to feel him move within her.

He wanted to go slow, to drag things out and show her how beautiful lovemaking could be. He wanted to be the one to guide her through all the steps of loving another person in the most primal and physical sense imaginable. But he couldn't. He had longed for her for months, fleeting glances and accidental touches fuelling his love for her until it had first exploded in the kissing of her palm those few weeks before. Now, with her spread beneath him on the seat of the car, her hair down, eyes wide and brimming with affection, he couldn't restrain himself. Careful of her newness to the actions between them he started to move, hips sliding back and forth slowly at first, but quickly gaining momentum. Her mind, unaware of the usual actions of lovemaking, didn't seem to stop her body from responding to the stimulation it was being peppered with. She began to grind against him, rocking her hips back and forth, feeling her greed take over, wanting him deeper, wanting more. She didn't understand the desire, the need to be closer and closer to him, nor the building pressure between her legs, but she doubted she could stop her actions even if she did understand them.

Noting her desperation, he pushed his cock all the way in, causing her to immediately arch up into him, taking him deeper, moaning loudly. He began to pump in and out of her a bit quicker, and with each stroke she met him, gasping each time he slammed into her.

He could tell she was getting close so he backed off for a minute, sliding his himself almost all the way out of her, leaving just the head of it inside her. It was selfish, he knew, but he needed to see her expression as she teetered on the edge of this. To meet her eyes and make her understand the depth of his feelings for her. They were still unsaid, still to raw to meet the daylight and the ears of the world, but he needed her to understand regardless.

Her eyes flew open and she looked at him, her eyes begging and yet accepting at the same time, realization dawning for her that she was not alone in her affections.

"Please…." her voice trailed off as she looked at him helplessly, still letting her hips jump against him. He reached down between them, touching her, causing her to shake against him. He slowly built the rhythm again until he was pounding into her, her voice reverberating through the car as she groaned and gasped, her fingers clutching at his back through the fabric of his coat and shirt. Without warning her body jolted, causing her to cry out as she clamped down around him, her orgasm washing over her in a torrent that she had never felt. Watching her fall apart sent him over the edge, his hips twitching as he spilled himself inside her, their bodies pulling as much pleasure from each other as possible in that moment.

He dropped his head to her shoulder, trying to keep his weight off her as he panted, thumb tracing small circles on her hip where his hand had landed a moment earlier. Slowly he pulled back, apologising quietly as she flinched, softly trying to right her undergarments for her.

"I'll get it," she said, voice quiet.

"Are you all right? Did I hurt you?" he questioned, hastily tucking himself away until he could look at her once again. She was dishevelled, her hair curling in damp tendrils around her face and her glasses slightly askew as she tugged her clothing back into place, noticing the tender spots on her thighs where his hands had pressed soft bruises into her skin.

"I'm all right," she answered, a smile playing about her lips as she reached up and cupped his cheek. "Thank you," she added, watching how his face crumbled slightly, eyes closing as he pressed his face firmer into the palm that he had kissed only a few weeks before.

"I can't lose you," he muttered.

"I will do everything I can so that you don't have to," she replied. "But now that I know what this is, what this feels like, between a man and a woman, my choices of where to go from here have become so much harder." Swallowing thickly Patrick nodded, trying to pull himself back together.

"I'll give you a moment," he said, climbing out of the car and allowing her the solitude to collect herself, putting away the woman who had just made love to a man in a car on the side of the road to re-establish the habit and wimple to where they belonged for the time being.

When he returned to the car five minutes later, having taken a walk and smoked a cigarette he found the woman gone and the nun back, the only evidence of their connection that of the tiny red bruise he could see beneath the strap of her wimple. He wondered if she was even aware of the love bite he had given her.

The rest of the drive to the sanatorium was in silence. She stole glances at him but made no move to spark conversation. For his part, Patrick resolutely watched the road and nothing else, trying to convince his heart to beat a normal rhythm from his breathing alone. All too soon he pulled into the drive, cutting the ignition and stepping out of the car to collect her things before opening her door for her.

"The triple treatment can be miraculous," he said, at a loss of what else to say, repeating the reassurances he had muttered more times that he could count over the last few days to her, to his son, to Sisters Julienne and Evangelina.

"We shall see. Thank you, Doctor, you've been more than kind," Sister Bernadette answered, leaving him without another word and heading into the sanatorium, alone. He watched her go, her tiny figure dwarfed by the blue fabric of her habit and the large foreboding building that lay ahead of her. He closed his eyes, trying to picture the woman who less than an hour ago was splayed beneath him, eyes sparkling as they made love. He gave himself a curt nod, getting back into the car and leaving. He knew he couldn't stay; that she had to figure out what she wanted, both from God and from him. But in that moment he wanted nothing more than to gather her back into his arms, to promise to stay with her, and to make sure that she was well.

Instead, he drove back to Poplar.

XxX

A week later, he sat in his office, pen and paper in hand, his lip caught between his teeth as he wondered what to say, wondered what was acceptable, wondered what she wanted to hear. Pressing the tip of the pen to paper, he started to write.

 _Dearest Sister Bernadette,_

 _I cannot stand Poplar without you. I cannot breathe without you here. I struggle with what propriety says I can do in this situation. Do I come to you and beg your forgiveness for my actions? Do I shout my emotions from the rooftops and damn the consequences? Do I come to you on my knees and beg you to have me as I am – a broken man who desires nothing more than your absolution and affections? I cannot start to tell you of all I feel, but hope that somehow you can come to know me; to know my affection for you in the way it is meant to be known._

 _I hope that you are well and that the doctors and nurses are giving you the care you need and deserve where I cannot._

 _Be well Sister._

 _Yours, always,_

 _Dr. Turner_

XxX

If her decision hadn't already been resolute before she read his letters, the words on the paper in front of her made it so. Biting her lip, she moved to the phone, knowing that she needed to tell him that she was well; that she was being released. She held her breath, listening to the phone ring through until she heard his voice again as it floated through the phone.

 _"_ _Morning."_

Oh yes, her decision had been made the moment he kissed her palm, she had just been unaware of it.

"I'm being released," she said. " _I'm coming home, to you,"_ her mind added.


End file.
